


Kismet

by IreneClaire



Series: Various Notions Collection [26]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Bromance, Drabble Collection, Gen, Hurt Danny, Hurt Danny "Danno" Williams, Word of the Day self-challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-17 08:01:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14184483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneClaire/pseuds/IreneClaire
Summary: " .... Kismet. Fate.He glanced again towards the chopper which was slowly circling up high and beginning what looked like a search pattern. Was this mere chance like his negative mind was wont to blame, or was it really fate? ... "





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> This particular Word of the Day was from a few days ago, but it stuck with me and deserved a story of its own. It took a while for the muse to be engaged by a word of the day, too. I hope you all enjoy this one. 
> 
> Happy spring even if it is snowing here in NY!

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

**_Word of the Day:_    Kismet - ** _fate_

The small plane had gone down in the Kalalau Valley on Kauai, miles from where they'd been scheduled to land. But the storm had come out of nowhere, pushing them far off course and battering the small plane like the proverbial tin can it was. In a perfect scenario, if ever one existed when it came to this kind of thing, they should have stayed with the wreckage and awaited rescue. He should have tried to get the pilot and co-pilot out. He should have at least checked Agent Carmichael's pulse even if the awkward bend of the man's neck was enough proof. But he did none of those things. Danny'd been forced to make a decision by the frightening reality of an explosion as the dire scent of an electrical fire wafted through the damaged cabin. Grunting in pain and ignoring a sickly body-wide ache, he'd dragged himself out only vaguely aware enough to keep his fingers wrapped around Hank Stanton's orange jumpsuit.

 _"G'out,'_ he'd demanded of the felon as acrid smoke made him start to gag. _"Fire. Hurry ...g'na blow."_

Stanton had followed on his knees, best as he could with his hands still cuffed and shackled to the belt wrapped around his waist, until they'd just about cleared the worst of the wreckage. Then, they had been up and leaning on each other in an ungainly shuffled-stumble as the fire had broken out in earnest.

Hank was gone now though. Babbling in hysterics after the plane had indeed exploded in a crescendo of yellowed-orangey flames despite the unrelenting rain falling from the sky, at first Danny hadn't understood the man's words. Evidently though, if Danny loathed small spaces, Stanton had been afraid to fly. The crash had been his worst nightmare come true and the explosion which had thrown bits of metallic debris at them had only exacerbated his personal beliefs that the sky was falling.

 _The devil had been there ... beckoning. Kismet. Fate. Cursed. He'd been cursed to hell for all his misdeeds._ Still cuffed, he'd broken away and lurched sideways, tripping over his manacled feet, towards a treacherous rocky drop.

The beach had been far, far below a rocky, craggy out-cropping. Danny remembered the hectic rush of blue, white, brown and even green as it all blurred together right before impact. Hundreds of feet below, the ocean crashed against volcanic cliff-walls. The drop would be deadly and Danny remembered wanting to do more to prevent Hank from the unthinkable in his panic. But he'd failed.

" _Stop_. _Hank ... stop."_ Even if he'd lacked conviction, Danny thought he'd at least said those words as he'd registered the distant sounds of crashing waves.

But Hank had taken one step backwards and then, simply disappeared. The felon had been there and then suddenly he'd blinked from sight as if he'd never even existed. Danny had stood in silence, the remnants of the plane burning brightly off to his right, shell-shocked and confused until he'd simply turned away, unfeeling, unempathetic and not knowing that he too was in a state of shock.

"Steve?" Danny whispered without knowing why as he walked along in the cooler white mist which the rain had left behind. "Steve?"

It was dark now and he'd lost track of time and place. The mist was disturbing and clung to him like a veil. He shivered and felt an eerie, other-worldly chill as wispy fingers caressed his wet skin. Nonetheless, he pushed himself forward partially lost in thought and yet, moving with a calculated intensity. It was pitch, well past midnight, and he could barely see his hand in front of his own face. What he was doing was dangerous, walking at night like this on narrow, slick trails. It didn't matter though; he needed to keep moving. Steve would want him to.

 _"That's my boy,"_ Steve's voice suddenly whispered in his ear, egging him on and providing the affirmation he needed. _"Keep moving. But be careful ... take your time."_

"And you'll come for me," Danny rasped brokenly as he held this one-sided conversation with himself. "You'll find me."

 _"I'm almost there now, Danno,"_ Steve promised. _"Hang on ... find water ... find the stream and follow it down."_

"Down. Yeah," Danny agreed. "To the beach ... you always said that."

Steve sighed in appreciation inside his head and Danny kept going, calling upon the various things Steve had prattled on about during the many times they'd gone hiking. Even battered and in shock, Danny was impressed with himself for remembering the wise words even if it was an inner-Steve providing him with a non-stop commentary of instruction.

His shivering increased as he slid along moss-covered rocks and thick, muddy debris. He slipped badly at one point, the thin leather soles of his shoes no match for the rough terrain. He fell heavily onto his hands and knees where he stayed for a while, rocking back and forth, head bowed and panting. There was a pain in his side and a deeper ache in his gut. His throat was parched and he gave out with a ragged cough, groaning as his stomach seized.

He didn't know if he should drink, but he wanted to; desperately. "Steve ... thirsty," he whispered. "W-what do I do? _Huh_? W-what?"

 _"It just rained, buddy,"_ Steve whispered with a sly laugh in his tone. _"You've got all the water you need. Open your eyes ... think."_

The imaginary eye-roll he heard in that voice made Danny snort noisily through his nose as he fought hard not to laugh at himself. He couldn't afford to laugh just yet. He was afraid to wake up that knife-like pain in his chest which was bad enough as he stayed where he was on his hands and knees.

 _"Get up,"_ Steve urged him softly. _"You've got this."_

"Course I do," Danny said. He struggled back to his feet and took a tentative step forward slipping again and nearly falling for a second time until he found an iffy purchase against the heavy trunk of a tree. He closed his eyes, the dry whine in his throat a counterpoint to the cold wetness of his dress shirt. For a minute, Danny thought about sucking the moisture from the material. Maybe that's what his inner-Steve was trying to tell him. But then he brushed against a wall of thick, water-soaked leaves and water seemed to stream from them in a thin cascade to wrap around his wrist.

" _See_?" Steve whispered triumphantly as Danny fell back down to his knees. _"You can drink that ... it's safe. Fresh rainwater that's all."_

"Okay," Danny said trustingly. Hands shaking and being as careful as possible, Danny cupped the broad leaves together to make a funnel and leaned forward. He coughed and choked as that thin river of water ran into his mouth tasting earthy enough to make him wonder just how many tiny bugs he'd just ingested. Nevertheless, he worked his way through the outer layering of leaves after that, not really having his fill but at least finding enough moisture to quench the worst of his thirst.

"Steve," Danny muttered as he willed his legs to move. There's been no sign of a stream and he was walking blind. Suppose he was wrong? Suppose he couldn't find his way down?

 _"I'm coming,"_ Steve whispered. " _I can't see you while you're so deep in the jungle ... find the stream, Danno. Find it ... find it and go down ... I need you on the beach where I can see you. Where you can signal me so that I can find you, buddy."_

Danny nodded in the dark as he continued to pick his way down badly eroded trails which could be nothing more than swales made by miniature mud-slides. The going was difficult and Danny was slowly losing his wherewithal to continue despite the goading tone his partner had adopted inside his head. The realities of his injuries were winning out to his inner-Steve and Danny nearly sobbed in frustration when he fell again, this time harder than before. He slid a good distance on his side, coming up short against a rock and rapping his head hard.

"I can't ... I can't do this," he complained when Steve's voice deserted him completely, leaving him alone except for the deafening sound of the coqui. He hurt _badly_ and was growing more and more sickish from the pain and exhaustion. This last tumble had left him breathless and desolate and Danny lay where he was on his side. He closed his eyes as his muscles seized and trembled all at once, giving in to an occasional pained moan. He was done in and out of his element. Except he heard it then as his loud juddering of his breathing eased up. Just on the fringes of his awareness, Danny heard the brighter undertone of a steadier, white noise.

Water. A stream? Maybe even a short-lived waterfall brought on by the rainy deluge. Did it matter if it led down to the beach? Danny weakly forced himself up, leaving the milky fog behind as he descended in an awkward rush of flailing legs and arms, stopping an all out tumble by mere inches only by grabbing onto saplings, green twigs and branches. But then, there it was. The narrow falls were no more than three or four feet wide in places and not deep at all but it was very real and heading downwards at a startling pace.

 _"Be careful,"_ Steve's voice warned him. _"Rocks are slick ... but this will bottom out on the beach."_ Danny chuckled ruefully at the unexpected return as he wedged his elbow into his side where he was beginning to hurt the most.

"So now you're back?" Danny asked ruefully. "Helluva time ... " He stopped talking when the tonal thump settled in the base of his ears. Rhythmic and yet distant, the sound was unmistakable. It seemed to dwell closer and then focus solely down by the rocky beach and Danny felt a pang of anticipation push some of his fatigue to the side.

 _Helicopter_. Steve had arrived ... he'd really shown up as he'd promised and Danny was in a panic as he aimed himself faster down the slick slope. He slid hard, barking his shins and straining the deep pain in his side until he felt a warmth seeping unnaturally into the material of his shirt.

"Steve ... I'll ... I...," Danny stammered over his own tongue. _Wait for him._ He wanted to say that as stress made his head throb and he realized that the sun was starting to come up on the horizon. Just how long had he been battling the jungle? Had he really been on the move the entire night?

He shifted his legs, trying to gain his footing, bewildered when nothing much happened beyond a trembling twitch or two. His muscles were taxed to their limits and he groaned his distress, his hands shaking as tried to pull himself up by using what seemed to be a convenient vine.

 _"No stop! I need you to hide,"_ Steve suddenly barked in his head. _"It's not me ... they're looking for survivors. They came in off the beach and they want Stanton. So, hide. Now!"_

Brought up short, Danny sat down again and then slid on his butt another four or five feet. He could hear the chopper and also the waves hitting the shoreline. Both were so, so close.

"Hide?" He asked, feeling numb. Steve couldn't be serious. "But .."

 _"Trust me, Danno,"_ Steve whispered. _"Get out of there!"_

For a long moment, Danny blinked dumbly, doubting that inner voice. Where was he supposed to go anyway? But then he was moving, squirreling away from the stream on his belly into deeper undergrowth until he found a small rocky overhang. Somewhat hidden by a large fern, he looked under the slab of rock and into the narrow black maw. He couldn't fit in there ... Steve couldn't possibly expect him to fit in there?

Danny shivered in disgust and maybe even fear. Suppose it was weakened from the rain and he was buried alive? Or _crushed_ ... or ... he couldn't fit in there if he tried ... _and_ snakes or ... _spiders_. Hawaii had some nasty bugs ... big ones ...

 _"Danny! Get the hell in there!_ " Steve's voice hissed at him in anger as he hesitated a millisecond before he heard the voices. Danny jolted in fear as he gave pause to listen, wanting to be sure. Shouting back and forth in Spanish, there were two or three in the small entourage.

Danny did what he was told then, clawing at the sodden earth with his hands to pull himself into the hole where he lay flat on his stomach only slightly appeased when he could worm around to face outwards. The fern covered much of his view. But even with facing the outside, the rock pressed dangerously into his back and he had to pull his legs painfully up to nearly touch his chest. The space was smaller than that of the trunk of his car and Danny began to hyperventilate.

 _"You're fine,"_ Steve whispered inside his head. _"Breathe ... in and out ... slowly. Quietly, buddy. They're almost on top of you. Please ... please just relax."_

Danny stilled as the voices came closer and he could make out individual words, his internal sense of panic warring with a more tangible danger.

" _Steady_ ," Steve whispered softly as Danny spied the outline of a man's head through the soft feathered leaves of the fern. Danny didn't dare move as the men seemed to circle his hiding place. They were much too close and he was sure that they'd be able to hear how his heart was thudding or the way he was fighting to barely breathe. He was positive until one gave the command to move on, the other two following at a careful pace for the slick surface.

Danny closed his eyes when the voices dimmed to nothing and eventually out of hearing range. He rocked his forehead on his arm and sighed into the damp earth. Wracked with fatigue, he began to drift despite inner-Steve's anxious proddings which eventually became more vehement.

 _"GET UP!"_ Steve shouted in his ear. _"Danno ... get moving ... signal me in! I need to know where you are ... I can't take the chance!"_

Danny didn't know what Steve was talking about when it came to chances. He'd taken so many himself since crashing, he wanted to laugh at the oddity of the demands.

 _"Daniel!"_ Steve snapped inside his head and Danny forced himself to find reserves he thought long gone. The effort to move was Herculean at best but he did extricate himself the same way he'd gone into the small cave - on his belly. He made the beach without knowing how he did it only to look up into the pre dawn sky to see not one but two helicopters bearing down on the crash site high above where he was now standing.

He marveled at how far he'd come through the night as he watched the two machines approach. The one in the lead would be Steve's. Danny knew that without a doubt as it barreled ahead, the sun gleaming off a dark blue shell.

He foolishly raised a hand to signal Steve in - to let him know where he was on the beach when a third suddenly appeared and Danny's mouth gaped wide. The Columbians were coming in to attack from the top of the mountain - from the crash site itself and rising with a hated vengeance.

Helpless but to watch, Danny stood on the beach as the most unlikeliest of fire-fights began. He flinched at the delayed report of gunfire whose rat-a-tat reached him many seconds after its reality. His eyes were glued to that lead chopper as it dipped or banked at incredible angles. He watched until the dog fight became a chase when a plume of smoke appeared as a smudge against the sunrise.

Danny blinked as the sun rose more, blinding him and obscuring his vision. He blinked again, his eyes tearing up from the strain, searching now to find what he thought was Steve's chopper. But they'd disappeared as quickly as they'd come and Danny gasped out loud. He wobbled dangerously, searching the skies and listening hard before falling weakly to his knees. He bowed his head, letting his chin sink to his chest not knowing what to do until a tonal _thwump-thwump-thwump_ settled in the base of his ears. At least one bird was coming back.

He had nothing left but chance as he pulled his badge out from his pocket and flipped the small leather case open. He was supposed to signal Steve in and this was all he had to do it with. Staring at his badge and taking a moment to trace its outline with a dirt-encrusted finger, Danny thought about Hank Stanton and the felon's crazed shouts before jumping away from him.

_Kismet. Fate._

He glanced again towards the chopper which was slowly circling up high and beginning what looked like a search pattern. Was this mere chance like his negative mind was wont to blame, or was it really fate?

Hands shaking and still on his knees, Danny held his badge up towards the sun and angled it until it caught the rays. Gold to gold, the reflection was brighter than he thought possible and Danny canted his badge even more, taking satisfaction as the warm gleam made him squint.

Eyes tearing, Danny smiled as the chopper seemed to hesitate in its methodical search. It turned his way and then paused entirely, hovering, checking him out. Wanting to be sure before diving his way like a bird of prey. Danny never flinched though. Not even when it circled him twice, far too fast for him to be sure Steve was piloting the thing.

But Danny _knew_ ... he knew before Steve had found a decent place to land on the rocky shoreline. Danny knew as he watched Steve jump out of the idling bird and begin an errant, wild run towards him, shouting his name at the top of his lungs.

_**~ End. ~** _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: due to popular demand ... not one final chapter though ... the breakfast bunny didn't want to jump to the rescue and I don't argue anymore. And while I do love Tani and Junior, I've not committed to writing them just yet. I've got to learn them a bit more and ease in to the concept. The original team is still being referred to here.

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

 **_Word of the Day:_ ** **Kismet -** _fate_

 

They'd refueled twice along the way determined to search and then rescue - not recover - that meant something entirely different. A bad place where Steve refused to go inside his head. So, this was their third trip out in yet another direction, but one that he knew would be successful. Steve felt it as they bore down on the shores of Kauai. He could see the white caps breaking on the rough shoreline and the outline of high rides. He knew it was right because he was no longer flying by the seat of the pants. _Because_ as dawn had approached and the worst of the storm had lifted, they'd gotten a signal. A faint, intermittent chime. The tiniest of beacons and it was enough to send them all back into the air. On no sleep and too much black coffee, Steve had gone straight up into the air with the rest of his team in tow, and out towards the Kalalau Valley over on Kauai. This time he had a purpose and a location to backup his ominous premonition.

But if they'd recognized the weak signal, then so had others and the Columbians had a vested interest in getting to Stanton first.

"Come on. Come on ... this is taking too long ...," Steve complained incessantly as he simultaneously searched the dark skies, listened to the radio chatter from ground control and checked the readings on the chopper's many dials. Under it all he was dwelling on personal fears which were refusing to stay at bay. A strange foreboding had pulled at him from the very start of this short operation. He'd been unsettled and snappish from day one, setting a poor example with Agents Simms and Carmichael which he seemed incapable of fixing. And Steve didn't know why. He couldn't explain himself and he could never quite put his finger on what was so very wrong or bothering him about the two agents and this particular mission. But that foreboding wouldn't leave him alone and had only worsened when Danny had so very calmly decided to participate in the final leg of the transfer.

For yet another reason which he couldn't seem to verbalize, Steve had adamantly rejected Danny's decision to go. And Danny? He'd literally bent over at the waist, mockingly incredulous, hands buried deep in his pockets... and then, he'd had the gall to _laugh_ in Steve's face because someone had to go! And if Steve thought that _he_ would be going after alienating both agents? Well, good luck with that! In the caustic tone that only Danny could adopt, he then informed Steve that Steve would have needed to pack a parachute for the mutiny which he'd cause mid-transfer. Danny's condescension had taken new heights then. Begging off that he didn't need to train-in another psycho partner or explain more than he had to already to the Governor about Steve's penchant to antagonize Simms and Carmichael, Danny had gently patted Steve on the arm, stated all of those facts, and gone off with Carmichael as the unlikely balm to smooth ruffled feathers.

"This was why," Steve muttered to himself as he was shaken by a terrible sense of déjà vu while piloting the chopper - that feeling of foreboding had been more a premonition - and this was precisely why Steve had been so against the damned mission from the word go. He briefly closed his eyes replaying the angry words he'd shared with Carmichael's partner when the small plane had dropped off radar; he'd nearly lost his mind at that point.

 _"What do you mean it dropped out of sight?"_ Steve had ground out from between clenched teeth. He'd glared at Simms, fists clenched, completely unaffected by the man's equally defensive attitude. He distinctly remembered wanting to put his fist through the man's pudgy face. In fact, he still wanted to do that ... might even do it ... _after_. After he found everyone and made sure his partner was in one, whole piece because if Danny wasn't ... and Steve shook his head forcing that dire thought away but then automatically falling back to Simms' arrogant posturing.

 _"Just what I said, McGarrett,"_ Simms had replied. He'd folded his arms sternly over his chest as if he'd thought Steve his subordinate. _"Calm down. It's probably a glitch with the GPS ... a little interface because of the weather ... I wouldn't ..."_

Calm down? _Definitely not_. A glitch? _Maybe_. If things hadn't felt so damnably wrong since they'd met the Agents and heard about Henry Stanton, then maybe Steve might have bought it. But Steve wasn't buying and he had zero intention of being calm. Lou Grover had been the only thing at that point preventing Steve from ripping the agent's arms off his body. So if he couldn't wipe the floor with Simms, he just wanted to find his partner and bring him home.

He scarcely noticed the turbulent air now as he argued his emotions and relied on his trained-in skills to make corrections to keep the bird aloft. Something which couldn't be said for either Lou or Kono as each reacted to every dip or unexpected bumpy dive; especially Lou who was no longer trying to hold back the volume of his cursed complaints. But Steve completely ignored Lou's muffled curses along with the white-knuckled grip as he rode shotgun. Even Kono's occasional query from the rear went unanswered about their heading and if they might be going down an aerial goat path despite the exciting blip. Behind them, in a second HPD helicopter, Chin was covering their six. If he was wrong, then they'd all be wrong together. But he _wasn't_ wrong; Steve knew the heading was right. He knew the signal was valid and he knew that Danny would be at the other end.

"Eight minutes out," he announced. "Stay alert."

His eyes narrowed as he checked the horizon looking for signs of trouble. While Kono's questions had gone unanswered, Steve was admittedly internalizing some of the very same doubts and concerns. In fact, he fully anticipated having to confront Sanchez's crew. If their tower had identified the signal from the plane's black box, then so had _Sanchez_ and he'd also have already scrambled his people to act. In all likelihood, they'd be converging at the same location, practically at the same time. Steve's stomach tightened when he thought he spied a small glint off his starboard heading. A flash of light which could easily be that of another plane or helicopter. Whatever it was, it was the right size and altitude and following a similar tactical heading but miles ahead of them.

"God, Danny ... be careful ... it's not me, buddy," Steve chanted repeatedly under his breath as he saw the glint of metal in the sky again. _Sanchez_. No one else but him would be out after such a storm and as he relayed his questions about potentially approved other flights back to base, they too confirmed no one else was anticipated to be in that area. No clearances had been granted, no other flight requests had been filed that morning; other than the Coast Guard, only Steve and his team should be there.

"It's not me," Steve whispered desperately as the metallic gleam blinked out behind the grayish waft of a storm cloud. "Stay low, buddy." The blatant truth though was that Danny might think any sound of life was of the good kind after the freak storm. He could be hurt ... _was likely hurt_ ... and potentially desperate with so much time having elapsed. Sanchez's men could easily get there before Steve did and Danny would need to hide. Go to ground and not do the opposite more logical thing of seeking help if he was even thinking clearly. Steve shook his head, his eyes dark with emotion. He'd be no match for whatever team Sanchez had sent and Steve flew just a little more aggressively despite the buffeting winds.

"I'm almost there ... _almost_. Just hang in for me ... hang in, buddy, and be careful," Steve muttered as he stupidly tried to convince himself it wasn't the Columbians at all.

"Four minutes," Steve reported, fidgeting in the pilot's seat as they bore down on the plane's now much stronger signal. _This was right_ , he could feel it. Danny was there and waiting for him. But hours had gone by. An evening had elapsed and then the full turn of a terrible, stormy night without much protection from the elements. No food or water. Limited medical supplies, if any.

"Almost there, Danno," Steve whispered again, uncaring that Lou had definitely heard him that time. But then they were there and when Steve saw it first, his hands literally juddered on the stick. The twisted metal was catching the glean of the sunrise and the blackened furrows which marred the crash site looked like jagged claw-marks made by some enormous prehistoric creature. The fact that the plane had been engulfed in flames wasn't lost on him.

_No one could have survived._

"Boss, no one ..." Kono's voice trailed off to a soft whisper. "I mean ... _God_."

"He's alive," Steve stated flatly, his voice remarkably steady even if he felt as if he'd been sucker-punched. Steve _knew_ while she was absolutely right, it just didn't need saying out loud and she sensed her error instantly. But no one could have survived the crash and resultant fire. Based on the wreckage left, the thing had gone up in flames. There was practically nothing left and with so many hours having gone by through the chill of a rainstorm, the wreckage wasn't even smoldering anymore.

"Steve? What the hell is that?" Lou choked out suddenly. He was peering downwards using high-powered binoculars. "Four o'clock. Beach level." His tone said he was stunned and when Steve looked down to where the older man was pointing, his own eyes widened in disbelief at the streak of orange material stark against the wet volcanic rock. The fact that they were spying the orange of a prison jumpsuit was irrefutable and Steve swallowed hard. He didn't need binoculars to know what or who it was.

"Stanton," he confirmed, not really caring as he pointed the nose of the chopper upwards, back towards the wreckage. "I don't know, Lou ... maybe, he just ... _fell_?"

"Maybe ... I guess," Lou replied equally distracted as he scoured the cliffs and beach. He was biting his lip and refusing to say more as he searched in vain for signs of life and then muttering about the other bird they might have seen.

"Gimme a sign, Danny," Steve whispered, his lips barely moving. He was desperate as he searched the crash site, the rocky ledges of the cliff below and then beyond into the black depths of the jungle. His attention was split between that search and listening to Lou and his team, their ongoing chatter as they followed his lead but also stayed alert for any signs of Sanchez's men.

"Come on ... you're here, I know it ... where though?" Steve murmured softly. "Danny ... _please_ ... where the hell are you? You have to be here."

 _"Steve! Twelve o'clock ... coming in high!"_ The alarmed chatter in his ear - Chin's voice - brought Steve's focus back sharply. His eyes darted up and Steve was reacting on instinct to evade the third helicopter which was now boldly confronting them.

"Boss! _Watch out!"_ Kono yelled as they were instantly fired upon.

"Got it! Take 'em down, Kono! Lou!" Steve demanded coldly as his defensive evasion changed to offensive action knowing the pilot of Chin's bird would do the same.

"Take 'em down, people, _now_!" Steve shouted as he aimed the nose of his bird directly at the opposing force despite the metallic splatter of bullets hitting their skids and a portion of their tail. Next to him, Lou cursed again but held his ground, returning fire as aggressively as Kono was from the rear. There was another blast of hot exchange and then a fiercely delighted sound of success from Kono as the Columbians' chopper began to waver alarmingly in the air. Steve sneered dangerously as it was made clear who the better pilot was and he forced the Columbians back, then sideways at an alarming angle. Their only recourse now was to flee when the sparks and a puff of black smoke appeared, with Steve directly on their heels.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> I KNOW ... but what can I say?!  It's NOT the end yet again.  Sheesh!  The muse gets 'pressured' and one chapter turns into three ... maybe four ... one word = one chapter. *shakes head*

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

 **_Word of the Day:_ ** **Kismet -** _fate_

 

Steve left Chin to corral what remained of the Columbians after literally forcing their helicopter down in an intense game of ' _chicken_ '. He'd also landed long enough for Kono to backup that team on the ground. After dropping her off and regaining some altitude, Steve had then taken a brief tongue-lashing from Lou for the manner in which he'd orchestrated just about everything. Unfortunately for Lou, Steve was far from remorseful though.  More crash than landing on the part of the Columbians, Steve could agree that he'd taken a terrible chance in getting the job done; but it needed doing. He might even agree that only his skillful flying and no small amount of divine luck had kept them from meeting the same fate as the Columbians rather hard ' _landing_ '. But in the end, things had worked out Steve's way when three of the Columbian's had tumbled out of their dying bird on their hands and knees just as the sparks ignited to become actual flickers of flame. Within seconds, the smoke which had been billowing outside the hull, thickened sickeningly to take over the helicopter's small cabin. The acrid smoke quickly overcame whomever remained inside. Somewhere in the back of his head, Steve remembered to be thoughtful enough that one of the men was the Columbian pilot.

"You good?" Steve asked Chin as he watched from above and ignored another long-suffering sigh from Lou.

 _"We got this, Steve,"_ Chin confirmed from the ground. _"Go find him. He's got to be here, right?"_

Steve concurred and was thankful to Chin for expressing such optimism about finding Danny. It was no lie that he was itching to leave and do just that; but Steve held firm to remain hovering closely overhead, Lou offering added fire-power until he was absolutely certain that his people were indeed in command of the situation. Only then did Steve turn back towards what was left of the small plane to begin what would be a studious and careful search pattern of the area.

Glancing down one last time as he lifted his chopper higher, Steve spied Chin on the ground, one hand raised in brief acknowledgement. 

 _"He's here."_ His friend's voice echoed through Steve's earpiece again as a far softer version of what it had been during the fire-fight and Steve nodded, knowing that Chin couldn't see him but suddenly not trusting himself to speak. The words were heartfelt and Steve sucked in what should have been a calming breath of air, however it had the opposite affect on his emotions. None of this should have happened and Steve fell back on his original qualms about the mission ... about having allowed Danny to go in the first place.

"Yeah," Steve finally responded, his voice sounding tight and gruff. He blinked rapidly then as he rose higher still, blaming the way he was tearfully squinting on the brilliance of the dawn against the storm clouds and the way the sun was nearly blinding him as the dismal gray changed to a bright-white fluorescence. He lost his line of sight at that point, momentarily startled by the intensity of the sun combined with what sounded just like the whisper of his name.

_"Steve ..."_

_"Shit."_ Steve's voice cracked and his hand bobbled on the stick. The chopper reacted to his sloppy handling and jounced as Steve whipped his head around to stare questioningly at Lou. "You hear that?" Steve blurted, eyes wide, positive that he'd heard Danny.

"Uh, no?" Lou replied carefully. His own eyes were wide, but for an entirely different reason as he white-knuckled the inner rim of the cabin.  "Hear what? Are you all right? You wanna just fly this tin can, _huh_?"

Steve opened his mouth, but was unable to reply. He jerked a nod that he was indeed fine but Lou snorted in disgust, his expression saying otherwise.  It was more than evident that the older man was now concerned for _him_ and his general state of mind.  Steve knew he should say something to argue and yet failed miserably which only compounded things. Instead, Steve shook his head again and quickly looked away, studiously forcing himself to adopt a controlled search pattern as they made the heights to look down onto the small plane's crash site. His hands were shaking though and inside, he was rattled and confused. Knowing that Lou was still looking at him, too, certainly wasn't helping matters.

_But ... what had he just heard? Rather ... who?_

Steve looked beyond Lou and then farther still into the jungle until something ... _a feeling_ ... made him look towards his far port side, away from the crash site and down. He shivered and then his vision briefly dimmed. _Something - someone -  was there._ Down towards the beach-head where the jungle ended and a rocky out-cropping began to jut sharply into the ocean. He paused and then frowned, thinking hard, eyes barely open.

"Steve? You sure, you're all right?" Lou asked as Steve faltered to nearly to a stop, hovering in place and progressing neither forward nor adopting a new heading. The feeling intensified and Steve held his breath, thinking ... searching.

"He's there ...," Steve muttered more to himself than to anyone else as his eyes scoured the shoreline. As he searched, the sun rose higher and brighter, its rays stretching down the beach, pushing the shadows back off the black of the rocks. The reflection was nearly instantaneous then and Steve felt a jolt run through his hands as if he'd been electrified. Gold, white, gold. The colors flickered but their intensity only increased. When the reflection deepened to gold and then brightened to a yellowish-white, shining directly into his eyes, Steve knew.

"Danny," he blurted, his hand shaking as he pointed down towards the spot. "Danny ... he's there ... he's down _there_ on the rocks."

"Wait! What ... where?" Lou demanded, but he didn't need to know as Steve dropped the chopper at a dizzying rate. Gripping his chest with one hand, Lou grabbed for the chopper's ceiling with the other, hoping to brace himself against the negative G's. " _Shit_! McGarrett! What the hell are you doing?!"

Steve didn't hear the shocked reprimand though; he didn't feel the affects of the downwards trajectory. He was fixated on a tiny spot which grew in detail as he carefully but determinedly flew closer and saw that it was indeed Danny. On his knees in a field of volcanic rock, sun now dotting his body, Danny's hands were cupped around a small, glistening object.

 _He was there_ ... on the beach ... _alive and whole._

"How in the hell did you see him?" Lou asked in astonishment as they were forced to do another fly-over due to competing off-shore winds and the need for Steve to find an option to land.

"Why isn't he moving?" Steve asked worriedly as he finally put the chopper down on the best of all the poor options. "What's he doing? Why isn't he moving?"  The questions flew out of his mouth, one after the other as he kept glancing over his shoulder, his worry growing, as he hastily unbuckled his harness and jumped onto the rocks. Despite having landed, Danny hadn't gotten up from where he was kneeling ... he wasn't doing a damned thing even though Steve was positive that Danny knew it was him. Without waiting for Lou, Steve slipped from the chopper only ducking down from the rotors out of habit. He picked his way quickly over the slick rocks, leaving Lou far behind to negotiate the path on his own.

"Danny ... _Danny_?" Steve exclaimed anxiously as he dropped to his knees in front of his partner. "Hey ... hey, Danny?" Steve's voice fled him as he raised his hands in askance, stunned by the sight of his best friend, not knowing where it might be okay to touch him. Not believing that he actually even _could_. Under the caked mud streaked with blood, Danny was nearly unrecognizable but ... _alive_. Ever so gently and filled with an incomprehensible sense of disbelief, Steve grasped Danny's arms while glancing over his shoulder, up towards the heights where he knew the wreckage lay. Almost directly below were Stanton's grisly remains. The only things in-between were jungle and cliffs and Steve's head spun at the impossibility of it all because finding Danny _here_ made no sense.

"How the hell did you get down here?" He asked, terrified when he didn't get an immediate answer and for a brief moment, unsure about what to do next. "Danny? Can you hear me?" Steve questioned softly. Looking at his partner, Steve was beginning to understand why Danny hadn't even tried to greet him when he'd landed the chopper. How he'd even had the wherewithal to signal his location by thinking to use his badge was a miracle, too, because Danny was a mess from head to toe. Eyes glazed, his chin bobbing to touch his chest, he was barely tracking anything at all; Danny wasn't only exhausted and in pain, but looking like a shell-shocked victim of war.

"Steve...," Danny virtually mouthed his name, relieving Steve of some of his tension. Danny's head moved just a bit, his eyes squinting upwards by what seemed to be a monumental physical effort of will and of all things, he tried to smile.

"Hey buddy," Steve breathed out when Danny attempted to focus on his face. "How? Danny? How did you get down here?" He was incredulous as he studied Danny's strained expression. His thumbs were rubbing slow, methodical circles across Danny's arms. Distressed, Steve could feel the cold from Danny's still damp skin literally leeching into his hands. Injured, suffering from exposure, none of this was making any sense to Steve and for one horrifying moment, he wasn't sure it was real until Lou dropped next to them on his own knees. 

"Danny," the big man said, his deeper voice a grounding force for Steve. "You ready to get off this lovely vacation spot for something more ... _amenable_ to creature comforts?"

Under his hands, Danny quivered and Steve heard the faintest of mocking snorts. _Danny agreed_ and Steve felt some more of his tension lessen. He almost smiled when he caught Lou's eye, except that the older man's expression was severe. Lou was as worried as Steve was about Danny's condition. And when Lou's mouth gaped open, nothing else forthcoming, it was easy enough for Steve to know that the same questions were tumbling endlessly through Lou's head, too.

 _Danny shouldn't be here._ Based on what he'd seen at the top of that ridge, finding Danny alive was nothing short of a miracle. _But here on the rocky beach, so far below the cliffs?_

"I'll be right back," Lou suddenly said. He thumbed over his shoulder back towards the chopper as he got to his feet. "He'll need some help ...but ... _here_ ..."

Then he was taking off his wind-breaker and wrapping it around Danny's shoulders. Lou didn't bother saying more as he walked away and Steve knew that he was going back for the portable stretcher. There was no conceivable way to carry Danny over the rocks; he was in no shape to stand up, let alone walk.

"You told me ... you told me ... to follow the stream," Danny suddenly whispered far too softly and matter-of-factly for Steve's liking. He cocked his head, squinting painfully into Steve's face, pausing between each word. "You told me ... so, I did."

"I- I _what ... I told you_?" Steve stammered before he gently moved Lou's jacket aside to lift the hem of Danny's shirt to eye the bloody gouge along Danny's rib-cage and the full extent of the bruising. Hissing softly through his teeth at the ragged amount of damage, Steve ran his fingers along Danny's ribs, across his sternum and then tested the tenderness of his abdomen. Under his gentle touch, Danny flinched and his already quiet voice faltered but he didn't pull away.

"Yeah, you told me ... you said ... follow the ... stream and ... wait," Danny murmured, his head bobbing dangerously now as the fight to keep his eyes opened increased exponentially. "So... so, yeah ... I did."

Steve paused completely in his quick ministrations to look into Danny's face which was ashen even under layers of dirt and grime. He cupped the side of Danny's head partly to support the way Danny was trembling and partly to covertly check for signs of a head injury. His face was as cold as the rest of his body. There were abrasions along his scalp line and one on his temple; but none looked signfiicant enough.

"You're going to be okay," Steve promised as he lowered the shirt and tucked Lou's jacket back around Danny's shoulders. "Just rest for now; let me do the work and we'll get you home." Gently, he ran his hands over Danny's arms, concerned as Danny quieted and closed his eyes. Suddenly, Steve's palm was virtually propping up the side of Danny's head as it lolled to the left.

"Danny! Whoa, hey! Where're you going on me, buddy? _Huh_?" Steve said in alarm. "Hey ... _nonono_... stay awake. Look at me all right?" He waited, heart in his mouth as he watched Danny fight to peel his eyes back open. The fight was soon to be lost for good though as Danny wavered on his knees, his body looking as if it was ready to collapse in upon itself.

"Easy, okay ... I've got you," Steve said as he scooped Danny's upper body into his chest. He pulled Lou's jacket tightly around to cover Danny's chest and upper body while he glanced towards the chopper to check on Lou's progress back.  He was relieved to see that Lou was already well on his way back, portable stretcher in hand.

"Steve? I'm tired...," Danny mouthed softly, childlike and pleading as his head fell, pillowed onto Steve's shoulder. "F-feel sick." He was shivering almost non-stop and yet, he fell quiet, his breathing deepening and yet sounding more raspy than it ever should be.

"Easy buddy ... easy," Steve pleaded needing to bump Danny higher in his arms as he sank bonelessly against him, his hands now limp. "We're gonna get you home; I'm taking you home."

As he whispered to him, Steve watched as Danny's badge slid from his fingers, the gold still gleaming brightly in the stronger sun. A direct counterpoint to the deep black of the rocks they were balanced on.  Steve's eyes filled with tears as he tucked Danny even closer to block the wind, Danny's head cupped to his chest, feeling almost helpless to do more as Lou snapped the stretcher open.

_**~ to be continued. ~** _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: well, technically, this could end here. But I'm not sure it will ... ergo, the 'TBC' at the bottom. It may become THE END - but I'm giving it a day or two as there's a glimmer of something between Steve and Agent Simms percolating.
> 
> My thanks to Phoebe for reading and vetting the chaos that is my brain .. :-)

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

 **_Word of the Day:_ ** **Kismet -** _fate_

 

_Hank raised his hand to point accusingly into Danny's face, the silver ring of a handcuff around his wrist. He pointed at Danny as if the crash had been his fault. As if his fall from the cliffs had been his fault. Danny swallowed hard and shook his head. He'd done nothing wrong. He'd only done his job, but Hank continued to point towards him, the silver ring rocking slowly back and forth like a tiny pendulum. The metal was bent and Danny couldn't see the felon's other hand; he wondered where it had gone. Was it even still attached to the man's body?_

_Danny's eyes flickered away from Hank and to the thing standing by his side. The thing was now smiling at him. A thin-lipped grin showing all its pointed teeth which would have been cartoonish - even clownish - if the thing hadn't whispered to him. "Do you believe in fate, Danno?"_

_Then he was falling. He tumbled inside a cave, a speck of light just out of reach of his fingertips ... he fell and then ... never hit the ground while Hank screamed at him in anger._

Danny's eyes snapped open, fearfully, even though he knew he'd been suffering through a nightmare, his body shuddering as it anticipated a reactive flare of pain from hitting a bottom which never materialized. Nevertheless, a very real sharp pain rippled clear through his mid-section as he clenched his muscles, believing he could actually get up. Danny groaned, his eyes still closed, still more asleep than awake, Cognizant only of pain. Almost instantly, he felt a hand on his arm.

"You're okay ... you're safe." Steve's voice finally made it over the resonating thud in his ears and Danny tried to relax, even if he couldn't quite combat the way his chest continued to ache. Saying that he was _sore_ wouldn't be an accurate enough word for how he was really feeling as he roused more, but not enough to fully make it out of a drug-induced twilight state; something which his doctors probably designed. Dragging in a careful breath, Danny vaguely wondered what he'd feel like if not for the warmth of the drugs pulsing through his veins because, in all honestly, they were barely working.

"Steve...," Danny whispered hoarsely as he fought through the thickness in his head, more aware now that, not only was he in a lot of pain, he was also shivering so badly that his teeth were just about clacking.

"I know. You're going to be okay though ... easy, buddy." Steve's voice lingered closely overhead, reading his mind and cutting to the chase of how Danny might be feeling, the warmth of his hand still on his arm. "It's ... you've been sick... bad infection, but you're going to be all right."

He should have found comfort in that, but Danny didn't like Steve's tone or the way he nearly stammered. If Steve could read him, then Danny could do the same and Steve was far too calm; much too quiet. Coming from Steve, _quiet_ usually meant the man was worried and _calm_ always meant that his friend felt helpless. As for the stammering? That was a new tic and Danny wasn't sure what to think of it.

"You're fine. Just a bad dream." That same quiet tone fell like a blanket over him, but it wasn't entirely true. Danny wasn't _fine_ and the dream? It was more of a terrifying nightmare spawned by some kind of prior truth. Besides, Danny knew this had all happened before. It was an excruciating challenge, but he wearily peeled his eyes open and searched the space in front of him, looking to match the man to the voice, Danny knew that he'd never managed to open his eyes to see his friend's face like he did now. Shivering from fever, Danny watched Steve breathe in deeply, expelling the breath he'd held, soft and long. Steve wasn't really looking at him though. He was staring blindly down at the floor, his expression, one of sad resignation while he gripped Danny's wrist, his thumb rubbing soothing circles over the pressure point. He was on automatic pilot, whispering the same few words, nonstop.

Danny blinked a few times vainly trying to clear his vision and focus, all the while staring at the hazy outline of Steve's profile. It was dim in the room, maybe even very late at night with a brighter light leaking in from the hallway behind Steve's head. The time didn't matter; nor did the place. Steve was always there. In Danny's head, coaching him along, and now here ... simply waiting. Running interference. Standing guard. Probably feeling responsible for what had happened even if he'd nothing to do with the Columbians or the crash at all.

An unconscious sigh escaped Danny's lips. His fingers twitched on their own and all of that was enough for Steve to sense the change in atmosphere and he finally looked up, meeting Danny's eyes. Steve's astonishment at finding Danny awake was evident as his fingers tightened on his wrist. Nevertheless, _this had happened before_ and Danny tried hard to study Steve's pensive expression.

"Bad dream," Steve offered. He waited calmly to see if Danny would answer, but his shoulders were tight and square. Steve's careful handling of his waking wasn't lost on Danny. It was as if Steve didn't quite believe that Danny was awake. Or maybe, since this had happened before, Danny's ability to converse had been rather compromised. But this time, Danny was a bit more grounded and Steve seemed to relax when Danny nodded.

"Yeah, bad dream," Danny whispered. "It was ..." He blinked, distracted enough to stop trying to talk as some of it came back to him. Admittedly it was only a few minutes old, but Danny was surprised by what he was remembering of the dream. Then again, what was coming to mind seemed more real than nightmare and Danny shuddered as he remembered the violence of the crash. Carmichael's broken neck ... and _Hank_.

 _It was Hank_.

His panicked cries about fate ... kismet and curses. The way he'd almost accepted the fact that he was going to die that day. He hadn't made a sound when he'd fallen off the cliff. The gaping maw of the _thing_ \- which Danny could never hope to describe was part and parcel of the nightmare. Yet Hank had surely fallen to his death. Steve's voice? Danny scowled at that because he wasn't sure. Now though, Steve was right there with him, just like he'd been before, the last time he'd woken. Danny had a faint recollection of his friend standing much as he was now, offering platitudes about bad dreams and nightmares. Soothing Danny's fevered ramblings and talking to doctors, managing his care. And for whatever reason, Danny suddenly found that as ... _funny_ and he snorted sloppily through his nose wondering if he was still so badly fevered that he might have lost his mind.

Kismet and curses. _Of course_ ... and Danny choked around an accidental smile when his bruised chest seized. Gasping in reactive pain, Danny shook his head as tears sprang to his eyes.

"Danny? What's wrong?" Steve asked as he scrambled to his feet, his concern escalating at the same time. "Danny ... talk to me ... what's wrong?" Fear on the rise, Steve was already buzzing for a nurse, his fingers like a vise on Danny's wrist.

Nothing was really wrong though as Danny fought to calm himself, equally helpless to prevent Steve from over-reacting. It was only that he'd realized something in his vague mental state: Steve was his kismet and his friend's worried calls to him now, asking if he was all right, only made Danny want to laugh more, but he didn't dare.

"Danny ... what's wrong?," Steve asked again as he watched Danny struggle to catch his breath, the fingers of his left hand mired in the material of his hospital gown near his abdomen where the pain was the worst.

"Commander?" The new voice authoritative, professionally cool, nonetheless friendly and Danny argued his body to see the nurse. "Is something wrong with Detective Williams? What's been happening?"

"I'm not sure what happened to him ... he woke up. He seemed okay," Steve explained, the stammering back in full swing. "But now. He's ... something hurts ... his side, maybe. Where he was cut in the crash. The infection ... maybe ... I don't know ... maybe it's the drain?"

Danny heard Steve inhale sharply before he stepped aside, allowing the nurse access to his bedside. With nothing to do as the nurse fussed about Danny's vital signs, affixed a nasal cannula and said something about getting approval for pain medication, Danny watched Steve's tall silhouette pace helplessly near the foot of his bed, his expression unreadable in the half-light of the room.

"He's all right, Commander," the nurse eventually offered. "I'll be back after I speak to his doctor so I can fill you in better; check on his meds. He needs to rest ... not talk."

"Yeah, okay," Steve said, apparently reluctant to have her leave even to do that much. He was tense and on edge as he returned to Danny's side, his expression now obviously colored by stress.

"M'fine ...," Danny whispered as he tried to figure out what else to say because his brain was stuck on Steve ... on the cards dealt to each of them. On some aspect of fate which firmly had planted each in the others' somewhat opposite universe. If things hadn't lined up in a certain way, their paths never would have crossed. So maybe the universe did have a divine plan - and not all of it fraught with devils and curses as Hank's might have been.

Unable to help himself, Danny smirked, albeit weakly and Steve's expression altered again, confusion now added to his worrisome emotional mix. "Fine? No ... no you're not. You've been sick for days," Steve said before quickly amending his statements. "You're not fine, buddy. But you will be."

 _Days?_ He'd missed that in the telling and Danny blinked wildly as any residual amusement about fate and kismet evaporated. _Days?_

"Days?" Danny asked to be sure as he reached out for Steve's fingers to keep his attention. That didn't seem right and yet, Steve's careful nod to compound the timeframe was enough. "But... "

"Danny," Steve covered his hand with both of his own to stop Danny from trying to speak. "Listen to me, all right? It's been almost four days since ...well," Steve paused to gather his thoughts, searching for the right words to say. "We found Stanton ... and the plane ... we think we know what happened. It was the storm ... the plane? It got hit by lightning."

"Hank ... couldn't stop him," Danny murmured softly as his thoughts went to Hank and the way the felon had fallen. All of it, the foundational cornerstones for his sickly, persistent nightmares. The fire ... seeing Carmichael already dead, his neck likely broken. Danny swallowed hard as he forced some air into his lungs.

"And .. Carmichael ... he ... his _neck_ ..."

"That's enough," Steve soothed as Danny's voice trailed off, easily drowned out by Steve's whispers for him to just rest. Danny was completely baffled by the timeframe though; what seemed so fresh to him, worsened by dreams and fever, had happened days ago now.

"But?" Danny whispered softly, his face creased in confusion. "That long?"

"Danny, Simms and I? We've taken care of everything ... everyone's been taken home," Steve softly assured him. "Do you know where you are - do you remember? You were in bad shape ... I had to keep you here, on Kauai. It was too risky to do anything else. I had no choice but to take you by chopper ... to fly you out. But I kept you here on Kauai since the hospital here wasn't even four minutes out from the crash site. Dumb, blind luck."

Steve sighed loudly this time, his stress worn blatantly on his sleeve. "I don't know how you got down to the beach ... if you hadn't ...the Columbians ... "

"Kismet," Danny whispered in answer and his lips twitched upwards again as he came full circle. "Besides, you warned me about them ... that it wasn't you; to hide. Damned cave." This time though not in amusement, but completely sobered by their brief conversation.

"I - I what? Warned you about ... _who_?" Steve asked, clearly baffled. "I don't ... Danny? What cave? What do you mean?"

"Just that... everything," Danny sighed the words tiredly under his breath, smiling softly about their connection. "It's kismet. Right?"

In his mind's eye, Danny made perfect sense but he lacked the energy to explain himself to his partner. As his eyes drifted closed, Danny made a vow to tell Steve what everything meant to him ... but later. He was tired and shivering, the ache in his chest a persistent reminder of the crash and his wild traipsing through jungle and down to a wilder rock-strewn beach. Danny allowed himself to drift back down to a darkness that was both good and sometimes wracked with disjointed memories that morphed into nightmares. With an effort, Danny forced his eyes back open one last time, searching for Steve and feeling a twinge of anger with himself for dozing off so quickly.

"Yeah ...kismet," Steve whispered when their eyes met. "Now, get some sleep buddy. All right?" Steve didn't seem to be nearly as confused as Danny might have thought because, he too, was daring to smile now. And as Steve's fingers resumed making those same soothing circles over Danny's wrist, Danny soon found himself giving in to the heaviness of his body and vaguely considering the wonders of fate ... and kismet.

_**~ to be continued ~** _


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hawaii Five-0 or any characters. No copyright infringement intended.
> 
> Notes: well, some more wrap seems warranted ... thanks Phoebe for assuring me it made sense since I read it far too many times this week!

 

**H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O* H5O**

 

 **_Word of the Day:_ ** **Kismet -** _fate_

 

Danny was sitting in a wheelchair, outside in the warmth of the sun, when the agent unexpectedly arrived. No matter the odd pull on his healing abdomen, his knee started to jig on its own almost instantly while he fisted his hands in his lap. Tight-lipped, Danny watched the man approach automatically cataloging the round face, equally round glasses and stiff-kneed walk. Simms? Why the hell was the man here at the hospital? According to Steve, everything had been handled days ago and, call it selfish, Danny had thought he'd escape needing to talk to Carmichael's partner. But as the Agent lifted a hand in welcome, Danny knew he wasn't being fair to himself or to Simms. He knew exactly why the Agent was there and honestly, he'd have done the same thing if unfortunate enough to be in the man's shoes.

"Detective Williams," Simms said as he walked up the sidewalk, taking a short cut to cross the grassy berm to the hospital's warm, patio area. "You look much better; I hear that you're almost ready for travel; you'll be going home tomorrow if I heard correctly?"

"Yeah, that's right. Steve. He, _uh_ , he's working on scheduling things," Danny replied with a sketchy nod, unsure of what else to say. He was a little taken a-back by Simm's knowledge of his general health and of when he might be released to return to Oahu. Maybe it was only that Simms wanted to know if he might still be at the hospital so he wouldn't waste a trip out there. Then again, if Simm's home base was on Oahu, why hadn't he just waited for Danny's return? For a minute, Danny even wondered if Simms had timed his arrival to be when Steve wouldn't be on hospital grounds.

Danny opened his mouth to say just that and then changed his mind. He was too tired to prompt and argument with the man. But Danny's suspicious expression must have been telling enough because, with his hands sunk deeply into his pants pockets and sweat beading his brow, and though it was for a different reason, Simms looked just as uncomfortable as Danny.

"Must be nice having someone on your team that's a pilot - McGarrett can do just about anything it seems," Simms offered, trying to make light of the awkward situation but sounding resentful and Danny immediately found himself becoming more defensive. "Private flight ... plus the weather should be clear this time."

"Seriously, Simms?" Danny bit out sharply and the agent's eyes widened at what he'd just said, his expression stricken since each word had slowly made the situation far more tricky and questionable.

"I didn't mean that," he mumbled around a dry throat-clenching cough which turned into a gut-wrenching spasm. "It's just ..."

"You okay?" Danny asked automatically as Simms choked and coughed through his tears. He felt sick when Simm's looked away rather than answering, his face reddened. It took a concerted effort from Danny to force his fingers to open where they lay his lap. Uncomfortably warm, all he could then do was stare at them.

"Simms? Are you okay?" Danny repeated. He squinted up through the brightness of the day. Concerned as a shudder ran through the man's thick shoulders.

"Funny, you asking _me._ I'm fine," the agent replied around a tight smile. His voice was hoarse though and his face no less splotchy when he turned around. He looked Danny up and down before taking a deep breath.

"More importantly, how are you?" Simms asked after forcing himself to regain his composure by taking a series of deep breaths. "Really? How are you feeling?"

Danny shrugged noncommittally and then winced, tucking his elbow to his side as a brace against the thick ache. The wound there was taking time to heal from an infection he'd managed to contract from the rain and muddy terrain. He was still on IV antibiotics and pain medication, and still feeling very much under the weather.

"Detective ... _Danny_?" Simms had stepped forward, his expression showing his concern. "What's wrong? Should I get someone?"

"No, no. I'm good," Danny replied. He breathed in and out as steadily as he could until the pain abated and he dared relax his arm. He glanced up feeling Simms' eyes still on his face; the man looked honestly concerned.

"You very nearly died," Simms countered softly. "It's a damned miracle you're here now; something which McGarrett won't let me forget." Before Danny could ask what Simms meant, the agent waved his hand at the wheelchair and shook his head before rattling off all of Danny's woes. "Concussion, laceration along your left side. Infection ... blood loss, shock. Three fractured ribs. You're still feverish ... still in pain ... your activity is being monitored. From here, you're likely to go directly to a hospital on Oahu at least for another three or four days."

"Excuse me?" Danny hissed through his teeth. He bit his lip, his face now flushed in anger and pain. There was no need to state the obvious: Simms was a Federal agent and as such, had easily pulled each and every string in order to gain access to Danny's medical records. Even if he knew the how of it ... and might be able to reconcile the why ... Simm's still had had no right to do it. Danny was beginning to see Steve's original point about not liking the agent. Simms could be an absolute idiot.

"I'm sorry," Simms said quickly as Danny's eyes narrowed. "It's just ..."

"Whatever. Forget about it," Danny interrupted him coldly, his tone and obvious anger more than enough to shut the man down - at least for a few minutes. He didn't need Simms to fill him in about his own condition. Danny had learned a lot since much of the pain medications had been dialed down. That Simms was right because his injuries had been bad enough, worsened by his downhill trek while in shock and bleeding. That Steve had barely gotten him bundled into his chopper before he'd crashed hard and fast en-route to the local hospital there on Kauai. Lou had had his hands full in the three minute flight trying to stabilize Danny's flagging vitals with Steve manning the controls. From what Danny later learned, if the hospital hadn't already boasted a small landing pad for its Life Flight emergency services, Steve had every intention of literally landing in the hospital's parking lot. Despite Steve's best efforts, infection had set in and Danny had nearly lost his life anyway. The small plane crash had very nearly taken everyone's lives in some form or another and when Danny felt his worst, he was left secretly wondering if he'd accidentally cheated death. Maybe he shouldn't be there at all. But then he'd remember bits and pieces of having made it down the muddy narrow slopes with Steve's voice echoing inside his head. That mystery might never be solved but Danny knew what he heard - he knew _who_ he heard - and he believed it had all happened.

Nevertheless, while it was also true that he'd finally been cleared to get back to Oahu, still bound to a wheelchair and on a series of antibiotics, Danny very well might be exchanging one hospital for another. Some of those particular details were included in the facts Steve was chasing down that very moment. However, Simms probably didn't really care about those things at all. He had shown up for another reason and Danny, feeling a bit off-center, opted to challenge the question.

"You're not here for me," Danny stated bluntly. "Not ... _really_. Cut to the chase, Simms."

Simm's paused, not so surprised by the statements before smiling nervously. "No, you're right," he agreed. "Though, I _am_ honestly concerned about your welfare ... and I _am_ glad you're going to be okay, even if it's true ... I did have another reason for visiting you today."

"Fair enough," Danny murmured as he looked down at his fingers again. "Spit it out Simms. Let's get this over with." He asked but he knew all of the reasons. He knew why Simms was there. He made a noise under his breath partially in disgust, knowing that he'd be doing what Simms was doing now if he'd lost Steve. And if Steve lost him ... his partner would be doing the same exact thing, too ... chasing ghosts and looking for answers ... trying to find sense in the senseless. Stupidly looking for answers where there might not be any at all.

"I need to know ... did he ...? I mean ... Carmichael? He was my best friend and ... I _know_ what the M.E. _said._ I read the report a thousand times. But...," Simms voice was barely audible, raspy. It was all too much and Danny was already shaking his head to put a stop to the painful struggle.

"No, it was fast," Danny interrupted. He was stuck looking at his fingers, the sun now excruciatingly hot and his head heavy on his neck. "On impact ... I'm pretty sure of that," he added quietly. He let his chin fall to his chest, his memory conjuring a series of images. It was disturbing that if he tried hard enough, he might even be able to still smell the first smoldering warnings of a fire. Pushing more, Danny briefly closed his eyes as he reluctantly recalled the odd cant of Carmichael's neck and the way he intuitively knew Simm's partner had been dead.

_He'd died on impact; he had to have._

"His neck," Danny clarified out loud. "Though you probably know that from the M.E.'s report, too. Before the plane... well before, the fire ... that came a few minutes later ... there was that odor, you know? And, I ... I..., _uh_ ... I didn't have time to get anyone else out."

He blinked as he admitted that to himself and scowled unhappily about having voiced it out loud. His fingers were blurring where they lay buried in his lap. He remembered thinking he should help or do something. But he hadn't, had he? Back then, he'd only made a grab for Henry Stanton. The man had been babbling like a loon the entire time. _Hell_ , thinking on it now, Danny wasn't sure he'd done enough at all. Maybe he'd been wrong. What if Carmichael, the pilot ... the co-pilot had all still been alive? Maybe even just one of them?

"Shit," Danny whispered as he shakily thumbed his eyes. This was the reason he hadn't wanted to see Simms. Bad memories and the surfacing of self-doubts.

_Had he done anything at all except save his own skin?_

"No. No, n-no," Simms stammered as he easily read Danny's change in demeanor. "No, you did what you could." He was shifting from foot to foot, his face red and his eyes watering. He scrubbed hard at his face, but that didn't do anything to offset his emotional turmoil. "I know ... and I thought ... and the M.E. ... he said ...but I needed to be sure."

"Yeah," Danny said. "I know ... I get it." And he did as he shrugged, before catching Simms' eye. He did get it because he knew what Simms really needed to hear no matter what the M.E. had discovered.

"I'm sorry, Danny," Simms said. "I just ... I needed to know."

"What are you sorry for now?" Danny asked roughly. "I'm the one who's sorry ... I should have done more." He blinked again, clearing his own misty-eyed vision. "I should have done something."

"More? Like what exactly? I just said that you did everything you could!" Simms scoffed, his tone understanding and yet, just a bit firm. "Danny ... you were in a plane crash and in shock. The fire? It was an impossible situation. It was an accident and no one expected you to do a damned thing, least of all me - and there's no blame. None; don't do that to yourself."

Danny shook his head, perplexed. Simms was an odd bird and hard to figure out. He glanced up and saw the confusion and regret in Simm's face. The two of them were certainly on delicate grounds and suddenly Danny felt more tired than he had in hours. The sun was too warm and he could feel a trickle of sweat slowly beading to roll down his back. It was then that he realized his hospital gown was becoming sticky from the heat and he was desperate to get back inside the walls of the hospital. In fact, Danny wished Steve would just come back to smooth things over. He was running out of things to say and his physical discomfort was growing in spades now.

"Listen, Simms. Would it help if I told you that I expected you to show up to talk to me at some point?" Danny asked the agent, hoping his own forthright words would finally do the trick. "That's all I can remember; I hope ... I hope it's enough."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Simms mumbled after a moment. "It's enough. It is. But before I go ... do you want my help to get back inside?"

Utterly relieved that Simms was done, Danny nodded as he returned the smile. He was feeling sickly and overheated. Steve was running late and Danny briefly wondered if he'd truly be given the okay for the flight back to Oahu. Steve could be arguing his case; or, worse yet, simply managing another round of some kind of mandatory hospital care there on Kauai. Sighing dismally at the prospect of being required to say longer, Danny tiredly closed his eyes when Simms strode forward and thumbed off the wheelchair's safety brakes.

"Hold on then," Simms said, evidently pleased to be of some help as they started in from the patio. 'Here we go."

They were just nearing the doors though when the chair stopped moving and Danny squinted his eyes back open. A wave of cooler air drafted over his face from inside the hospital's air-conditioned interior and Danny inhaled it, slightly refreshed by the change in temperature. It was the tall shadow that he focused on though.

"Simms. What's going on?" A take-out cup of coffee in each hand, Steve was blocking their way, a very guarded look on his face. "Danny?"

"Nothing," Danny said before Simms could utter a word. He waved his hand towards the cooler interior of the hospital and then pointed to the coffee cups which Steve was holding. "Simms wanted to see how I was doing and I asked him to help me inside. More importantly, is one of them for me? Do I have a ride home? And the only happy answer to each of those questions will be a yes, Steven."

Frowning as he studied Danny's face, Steve handed him one of the cups. "You don't look good. What's going on?" Steve demanded, all the while staring at Simms before simply supplanting the agent from the rear of Danny's wheelchair. "I'll take it from here," Steve stated coldly, his tone enough to make Danny roll his eyes skywards as the stand-off began to take root.

"Excuse me, but the patient ... that would be me ... wants to go inside now," Danny interrupted the tangible rise in tension."Gentlemen?" He'd no idea the relations between Steve and Simms had gone south so very badly as he tried to defuse the anger. It made sense though and Danny should have realized it. He'd had enough clues to cobble together merely based on Simms stilted conversation.

"Detective Williams, thank you for your time," Simms stated blandly as he stepped to the side in order for Steve to push Danny through the doors. "Safe travels home."

Steve deigned to turn the chair just enough for Danny to see the agent. Simms was on the verge of the doorway. He was already starting to back away, to leave the grounds across the patio the way he'd arrived, his hands fisted and his own expression, a mix of sorrow and indignation. "Thank you for speaking with me," Simms said more sincerely. Danny opened his mouth to say something, but then the man was gone and the automatic doors were sliding shut.

"What did he want?" Steve asked again. Based on his tone, Steve was still angry. Beginning to pace, hands on his hips as he stared outside towards the parking lot, he'd even forgotten that he was supposed to be taking Danny back up to his room.

"What do you think? He needed to ask about his partner," Danny countered back. "Let it go, Steve. Can we go upstairs now?" He was tired of talking and his partner should know better than to be asking such a question; at least in Danny's own opinion.

There was a pause and then Steve was in front of him, staring down, his eyes sharp and his expression, pensive. "You need to lie down," Steve finally said, his demeanor softening. "It's probably time for your meds and I was running late ... but yeah, it took some doing but I can get you home tomorrow. Unless something - or someone - causes you to have a set-back ..."

"Steve? I'm not going to have a set-back. Did you hear me about letting things go?" Danny pressed on in order to get confirmation of the other part of what he'd asked and he was relieved when Steve relented.

"Yeah. All right, I'll let it go ...but it _was_ too soon," Steve muttered. "I don't like that he was here."

"It could have been us," Danny noted as Steve rolled him towards the elevators. "Me ... you could be here today, asking _Carmichael_ ...wanting to talk about the same things Simms needed to talk about ..."

"But it wasn't," Steve interrupted quickly. He stopped their forward motion in front of the bank of elevators and Danny shook his head at the futility of it all. Then Steve was in front of him again, bent over at the waist and practically vibrating with emotion. "It _wasn't_ , Danny, and Simms had no business being here!"

Steve was adamant and still very much annoyed by Simms' appearance. It didn't take much for Danny to remind himself that Steve had been against the mission from the very beginning, too. Against the mission and certainly against Danny taking part in the ill-fated flight. His dislike of Simms had been similarly clearly voiced; the two had done nothing but antagonize each other upon meeting.

"Okay, all right," Danny said, giving in because he knew it would take some time for his partner to calm down. If Danny was recovering, then Steve was certainly starting to run on fumes as he tried to manage a case, a plane crash, hours of discussions with the Feds and Danny's own medical care. Simms showing up that day hadn't helped matters. _Still_? Danny shook his head, his voice low as Steve thumbed the elevator's call button a bit too hard.

"You know that he had to come... he _had_ to know, Steve," Danny stated quietly. "He had to see me; I was the last one to see his partner." Head down, Danny looked at Steve up through his lashes, reading the tight-lipped expression which relented just a tiny bit as Steve caught his eye.

"Maybe," Steve finally and most reluctantly muttered. "He could have waited another day or two, though." Danny managed a patient grin. Steve wasn't really letting anything go quite yet. His expression was a confusing combination of relief and fear. The _'I told you so_ ' about the entire shit-mission continued to ball Steve up and toy with his emotions.

Danny chuffed a knowing sound under his breath as Steve continued to stare at him, clearly worried. It hadn't been them needing to deal with loss and maybe _that_ was because of their kismet being hard at work. If so, then Danny should have paid more attention to Steve's premonition. For whatever reason though, Fate had taken pity on them and Fate had allowed Danny one more chance. He'd certainly been listening then ... hard and true to that mental diatribe ... and Steve had gotten him down through an impossible jungle and to a rocky shore-line. Not quite in one piece, but _alive_.

Despite the odds, Fate had also allowed Steve to make it through the remnants of a vicious storm to find him.

"Tomorrow?" Danny whispered questioningly, his eyes closing as Steve rolled him into the elevator. He felt Steve put a steadying hand on his shoulder, the warmth countering the sweaty-chill from his hospital gown.

"We're going home tomorrow," Steve confirmed under his breath and Danny smiled, his eyes still closed. It wasn't them because it hadn't been meant to be.

_**~ End. ~** _


End file.
